Take Me Home
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: Emmett is bored. Harry is interesting. CROSSOVER SLASH Emmett/Harry Potter


A/N: This is just…random. Written a few weeks ago and forgotten about, in fact.

**Take Me Home**

It was three in the morning, but the gay club showed no signs of slowing down. New people poured in and out steadily. The lights above were swirling like dizzying butterflies, colored every shade of the rainbow, across the dance floor. They lighted on various sweat-drenched body parts, all pulsing in time to the blasting music that made the whole club throb like a giant heart. In and out, in and out, _throb, throb, throb!_

Emmett was bored, though. Not having a heartbeat himself, the seductive throb of the music had no effect on him. He'd been leaning against the bar turning down everyone who hit on him for the past three hours, trying very hard to get drunk, and thought that perhaps now was a good time to go home.

You might be wondering what Emmett Cullen was doing in a gay club, on a Friday night no less when any self-respecting straight man would be avoiding taking his wife or girlfriend out on an expensive date.

The thing was, he'd never had what you would describe as a normal marriage. After being married for nearly a hundred years, their libidos were still as frisky as when they were teenagers, and you could get bored of just one person no matter much you loved them. That's why, 32 years ago, they'd invented 'Separate Day'.

'Separate Day' was usually held on the first Friday of the month, unless there was a family emergency or major holiday that coincided with it. True to its name, they spent the day completely separate from one another. It started at midnight and didn't end for the next 24 hours. During this time they considered their marriage temporarily annulled and spent it doing whatever the fuck they wanted to do, which included sleeping with anyone or anything that caught their fancy. Anything went as long as you were back to your spouse come the end of Friday.

But this Separate Day hadn't been as successful as the ones of the past. It had barely begun and he was already bored. Normally he resorted to the gay scene when he really needed to switch things up, but tonight not even the novelty of a man could assuage his boredom.

He sighed and swirled his finger in his martini before knocking it back. He wondered how Rose was faring. He wondered if she would object to him spending Separate Day curled up with a good book.

No, but she would probably laugh in his face and ask him where his balls had gone.

With a groan, ignoring the wide-eyed bartender who was staring at the eighth empty martini glass, he surveyed the floor again. He didn't feel like dancing, but maybe there was someone new there who could peak his interest-

Someone crashed into him.

He in turn fell back against the patron standing beside him, spilling the unfortunate queen's drink all over both of them, ruining his dress and Emmett's favorite shirt. There was some kind of scuffle, and he could've sworn that he saw someone in cultist robes disappear into thin air with a sharp scream.

"Fuck! I am so sorry!" He exclaimed, getting back into the moment, Reaching out and grabbing the person who'd knocked him over, he held tight before they could get away. With his free hand he dug into his pants for his wallet, producing a hundred dollar bill. He shoved it into the hands of the stunned queen, "here's for your dress, man. Sorry again for ruining it!"

"I…its okay…"

He nodded to him and dragged the trouble-maker to a quieter section of the club. It was under the DJ's platform and technically off-limits. There were a lot of boxes holding equipment lying around in stacks, and he had to stoop so he didn't break the platform with his head. He'd had a lot of accidents like that in the past and reflexively crouched whenever he entered a new area, just in case they had a low-hanging chandelier or something.

In the dim glow of the safety lights, he got a good look at him. He was wearing a stained t-shirt and torn jeans with combat boots that smelled like…like…like…

His nostrils flared. _Blood, _lots of it, and none of it belonging to the young man in front of him; long tangled hair concealed his face, but he could feel him quivering like an autumn leaf in his grip.

"Shit, mate, I didn't mean to bump you, but I'm kind of having a crisis right now and I'd appreciate if you'd let me go without beating the insides out of me."

That voice…it was foreign and just barely loud enough to be heard over the eternal _throb, throb, throb _of the night-club's heart. English, Australian? He couldn't pinpoint which, but he loosened his grip. He didn't want to accidentally break his arm.

He wasn't angry, only curious. This bumbler was the most interesting thing to happen in the past few hours. Like a cat, he wasn't willing to let any source of amusement pass him by without playing with it first. He chuckled.

"I won't beat you up, kid. I just wanted to see if you were okay and it was too dark out there," that was a lie. He could see in the darkest of caves, "You looked like you were running from somebody. Did you have a fight with your dealer or something?"

He snorted, "Nah, I'm not on drugs. Just some thugs looking for a fight; I think I lost them when I crashed into you. Thanks for being concerned and stuff, but I really should get going now."

Emmett held out a hand and kept him from getting away. He could smell the sharp tang of new sweat. The stranger was nervous now, and that intrigued him. He was starting to enjoy himself. It couldn't hurt to play with him a little? He grinned without thinking.

"Holy _fuck _you're a Vampire!"

Shock raced through him before he remembered that humans sometimes put caps on their teeth to try and imitate what they thought vampires looked like. He tapped his teeth,

"Oh please. These aren't real. They're plaster. Cool, huh?"

The stranger deflated. With irritation, Emmett saw that his face was still hidden in the shadows of his hair. He reached out to move it aside and the human recoiled, holding out his hand.

"I think we should do this properly, and then you can let me go. First I'll introduce myself, then you'll introduce _yourself, _then I'll say 'thank you', and you'll say 'you're welcome' and let me go home. Good? Okay. I'm Harry. It's nice to meet you, Mr.?"

"Cullen, Emmett."

He might as well play along if he wanted to get a peek at who he was talking to.

"Right. It's nice to meet you, Emmett, though I wish it was under different circumstance. I appreciate you saving my arse out there, and I hope you have a lovely evening. Good-bye."

He tried to get past him again, but then he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Emmett could hear his breathing start to become labored, and reached out just in time to catch him when his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

Harry had fainted.

Emmett was pretty sure he didn't mind, though, because this meant that he could have a definite source of entertainment for the next 20 hours or so.

Knowing that Rose would be out all Friday tearing up the town, he considered taking him back to their house to have Carlisle look at him. He decided against it, remembering when his Aunt Maybelle used to faint on a weekly basis, way back when he was still a human and had to visit her house three times a week to chop firewood for her and pump extra water from her well. All he needed was a cool cloth and a dim place to lay him down until he recovered.

He headed for the hotel room he reserved regularly instead.

~O~

Laying him down on the bed, he went into the bathroom and wet a face flannel under the faucet for him. He ran the water until it was ice-cold before drenching the cloth. It was important to cool him down as quickly as possible to return his blood to its proper flow. Coming back, he sat on the edge of the bed and reached around Harry to tuck it against the back of his neck, where the skin was hottest.

Now that he finally had a chance, he flicked his hair out of his face, smoothing it back to get the wild curls to lie flat against the pillow. Harry was a lot younger than he'd thought, now that he could see him, though there wasn't a scrap of body fat on his face. Sharp cheekbones jutted out, framing dark circles and chapped lips. It wasn't a well-tended face, but it was attractive in a wild way, like a fox or feral cat. The stubble only helped add to the 'young tough' image.

He frowned when he saw what he'd thought were shadows disappearing into the hair on his temples were actually scars. What the hell? What kind of person had scars there, of all places? There was another scar in the middle of his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt pointing slightly to the left.

What an interesting face!

On a whim, he lifted the hem of his tatty t-shirt and peeked under it. Harry's stomach was one big bruise, and the skin covering his ribs was cracked in places.

Well. This explained why he'd fainted.

When Harry woke up, it was in a hot bath. He blinked, not comprehending what he was seeing. He could smell bath salts in the water, the kind that were good for you while smelling good too, and there was a lamp set up the floor so that the harsh over-head light could stay off. A damp cloth, chill to the touch, was draped around the back of his neck.

He tried to move and groaned. He'd really over-done it this time, pushing his body to the limits of what it could do. It wasn't like he had much of a choice, though. When Death Eaters attacked, you didn't just yawn and tell them to come back after you'd had a nap.

And then, once he'd started to make a good dent in the Death Eaters, who should show up but Voldemort himself?

He shivered and forced himself to stop thinking about Voldemort. He was dead now anyway, and there wouldn't be any resurrection this time.

The conditions within which he'd killed the Dark Lord could have been better. He was exhausted and tired and so hungry he was considering taking a bite of his own arm when he cast the killing curse that finally finished off the monster that'd terrorized him since infancy. The Minister had witnessed it, and the war was declared over. For a glorious fifteen minutes, he felt free and actually started to believe that things could be okay now.

But no, he wasn't allowed to catch a break. There were more Death Eaters, the kind that didn't turn coat and try to convince the Ministry that they were really innocent when their leader was confirmed dead. These men were angry, and they wanted Harry dead. He'd spent the past three days frantically running from them and killing as many as he could to escape every time they cornered him. It wasn't until now that he'd gotten away for more than an hour.

Seeking shelter in a gay club was the best idea he'd ever had, apparently.

Someone stepped into the bathroom, and his instincts forced his aching body into a standing position. He grabbed the lamp and held it out like a sword. It was a poor weapon, but it would do in a pinch.

The huge guy from the club was standing there with a mug of what smelled like coffee in his hands, grinning at him like he was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

Harry self-consciously covered himself with the flannel from his neck.

"Um…"

"Feeling better?"

He nodded, confused, slowly sinking back down into the water. The guy, Emmett, handed him the coffee and knelt on the tile beside the tub. He took the flannel from Harry, dunked it in the water, wrung it out, and draped it back over the back of Harry's neck again.

"You scared me in the club, you know. I was just messing with you and then all of a sudden you fell over. It looks like you've had a rough past couple of days."

Harry nodded again, sipping the coffee, "Thanks for taking care of me. I have some money I can give you-"

Emmett held up a hand, "Save it. I was bored and I could use some company. All I want in exchange for being your nursemaid is some information."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "What kind of information?"

"Who did this to you?"

"People."

He rubbed his face and smirked at Harry through his fingers, "That isn't going to cut it, smartass. I'm a big guy, and I'd like to beat the shit out of whoever did this to you. I don't like injustice, and even if you screwed up somehow, this is uncalled-for."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't know the names of the culprits, and most of them are dead now," he got up, grabbed a towel, and said, "Now, if you don't mind, I shall be going. Thank you for your kindness, but there are people who will wonder what's become of me if I don't get back to them soon."

Emmett joined him in the bedroom just as he was zipping his pants and watched silently as he pulled on his shirt, wincing. Hood up once more, he was as non-descript as a pedestrian could get.

Harry had his hand on the door knob when Emmett said, "Wait."

Crossing the room in what felt like a single stride, he grabbed him gently by the biceps and kissed him. From the way Harry tensed, he could tell that he'd surprised him. He didn't pull away, though, which he was going to take as encouragement.

When they parted, Harry made eye contact for a solid 10 seconds before smirking and reaching forward to pull him back towards him again.

~000~

The next morning, at the Ministry of Magic, Harry was accepted into the Order of Merlin for his heroism. He barely noticed, though; his mind was still tangled up in the man he'd spent last night with. He had his phone number in his back pocket.

~000~

END


End file.
